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Freya, whisky, and the sweet cherry of her recent cocktail is a heady combination and could become my new favorite flavor. Her fingers dig deep into my hair, nails scraping against my scalp with surprising force as she tugs me closer. I never expected Freya to be shy about asking for what she wants, but this desperate clawing is fucking brilliant. This is no tentative first proper kiss; it’s fiery and demanding. I hope she wants to take this further; otherwise, I am going to be in a whole world of blue-balls hurt.
I fill my palms with her seriously hot curves, squeezing her hips closer to mine. Every delicious inch of skin beneath the thin fabric produces another tick up in the beat of my heart. I want Freya, and I’m fucking sure by the way she is grinding against my cock that she wants me too. My palms run from her narrow waist, over the flare of her hips, and down to cup her ass. I want to throw her over my shoulder like my Viking ancestors would have done. Modern civilization be damned.
She releases my lips from where she’s been holding them captive and speaks close to my ear. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
I can’t move fast enough. Taking her hand in mine, I lead us to the bar to grab her jacket, then without even stopping for her to put it on, we are at the door. The sudden shock of light after the dark interior of the bar is jarring. A midnight sun takes some getting used to.
“Your place is closest,” she explains, slipping her arms into the sleeves of her jacket. All doubt that we would end up in bed together just flew out the window and pumped another rush of blood to my dick.
She takes my hand again and begins striding up the hill to my bed and breakfast. I match my pace to hers, which is surprisingly quick.
“You seem to be in a bit of a rush,” I tease, noticing that she is showing no signs of breathlessness despite the steepness of the hill.
She laughs. “What? And you’re not? I’ve been wanting to get you naked since yesterday when you walked through the door of my uncle’s bar.”
Laughter roars up from my chest. “You just had to say.”
We reach my place, almost running up the two flights of stairs in our eagerness to reach the privacy of my room. I thank God for every one of those hours spent cursing the aches and pains of a tough workout at the local gym because I’m not even panting when I unlock the door.
With surprising strength, Freya pushes me over the threshold from behind. I like this side of her. Again, she’s nothing like the women in my past who have always expected me to take the lead. I’m learning that’s not Freya’s style. She will take what she wants when she wants it. And in this moment, that appears to be me.
Her fingers are at my waist, popping the button on my jeans and tugging the zipper down. Her hand reaches into my boxer briefs to wrap around my cock with a firm grip that has me seeing stars.
“Fuck, that feels good,” I manage to groan out before roughly burying my fingers into her silky soft hair and pulling her face to me. I crush my lips to hers. My tongue pierces through the gap in them, hungrily seeking her taste. In the last twenty minutes, I’ve developed an addiction to Freya’s mouth.
Her hands work to free me completely from the confines of my clothing, pushing my jeans and underwear down to my thighs. Then her hand is back gripping my cock, the other reaching to cup my balls.
I rip my lips from hers, gasping. “Fuck, Freya.”
“Yes please.” She half moans and half begs in a soft, husky voice before dropping to her knees before me. “Nice,” she purrs through lips that are less than an inch from touching the tip of my cock.
Grabbing a handful of her hair, I tilt her face up to mine. “Just nice? You won’t be saying nice when my dick is stretching your pussy and you’re screaming my name.”
Her mouth curves up into a sexy smile as her green eyes darken, a teasing glint lighting up their depths. “I like the promises you make. But first, I want to have a whole mouthful of fun.”
My grip loosens in her hair, allowing her to lick my crown like I’m her favorite flavor of ice cream.
I swallow another groan. I’m so fucking hard I can barely see straight. I want those sinful, teasing lips sucking on me.
She leans in further, settling into position on her knees in front of me, then tightens her hand around the base of my shaft. Her pink tongue darts out, licking the drops of precum that leak from my tip. My knees wobble.
She licks me again, running her tongue along the length, and my hips thrust forward. I want to fuck her mouth so badly. And when she finally seals her lips around my stiffened cock, my eyes roll back.
Desire roars through my veins. It’s so damn hot beads of perspiration dampen my skin. Each time her cheeks hollow as she sucks on my tip, she takes me in further. Impossibly deep in her throat, I try to hold on.
My fingers entwine in her hair again. “Freya, I can’t … Fuck!” I tug on her hair, but Freya just sucks harder, her nails digging into my thigh where she holds me. I’m hanging by a thread. But not for much longer.
My balls draw up, and all I can do is growl a warning. “I’m going to come.”
I spill down her throat in a thick stream. My release was inevitable, and when I blink her back into view, Freya is looking up at me. Satisfaction paints her beautiful face, with her eyes as innocent as a Botticelli angel and her smile as seductive as the Mona Lisa. My Icelandic princess is a temptress.
Leaning down, I lift her up to me, my lips sealing to hers in a long, gentle kiss. The frenzied activity of seconds ago has sated us for the moment. But soon, the need to press my bare skin to hers is sending a rush of blood south to my already thickening cock.
Roughly, I tug my sweater and T-shirt off over my head as one, only briefly getting stuck. And when my head is freed, Freya has dropped her leather jacket to the floor and is inching the gold dress up her body and over her head. She isn’t wearing a bra, and my first glimpse of her breasts is revealed. Her dusky pink nipples are taut, begging to be touched.
Frozen in place, I watch as her fingers inch the lace G-string down to pool at her feet. With less finesse, I unceremoniously rip my jeans and boxer briefs the rest of the way off. Finally, we stand before each other completely naked. Not touching. Just staring. She’s gorgeous, and I drink her in like a dehydrated man found wandering in a desert. While her green eyes filled with devilment travel over every inch of me.
“Very impressive,” she whispers in a husky voice that I swear has me growing harder.
